


Are Secret Admirers Still A Thing?

by thetiniestnerd



Category: Hot Wheels: Battle Force Five
Genre: Agura is a huge sap, Blood, Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mild Injury, Oblivious Stanford, Oral Sex, Pegging, Smut, Snapshots, accidental confessions, crygasm, hardcore pining Agura, just a flesh wound, leaving notes, mild violence, no one is seriously hurt it’s okay, secret admirer (technically), someone says “I love you” during sex, the timeline is off, trans!Spinner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 13:25:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetiniestnerd/pseuds/thetiniestnerd
Summary: Stanford isn't convinced that the notes he's getting are genuine. But they are sweet. At least that's something.





	Are Secret Admirers Still A Thing?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyssita_Lennon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssita_Lennon/gifts).



> I started this ages ago and I finally got around to finishing it. Enjoy.

For the first time in a while, Stanford woke up of his own volition, instead of to a screeching Stormshock alarm. He rolled onto his side, facing into his room, and yawned. Sir Fluffalot rested in the crook of his arm, his head lolling towards the floor. Stanford smiled and sat up, setting him next to his pillows in the corner. The day was always bound to be a little better when he woke up to Sir Fluffalot on the bed instead of the floor. 

Stanford stretched his arms above his head and groaned. The comforter fell off the bed, not that he really minded. He stood up and continued to stretch, then bent and flung the blanket back where it belonged. He rubbed at his eyes and made his way to the door. His stomach growled and clenched. He wondered idly what kind of cereal they had in the kitchen as he reached for his robe hanging on the back of his door. He stopped short when he felt something crinkle under his foot. Looking down, he found a folded piece of paper under his foot. It was yellow; it looked like it had been torn from a legal pad or something. Frowning, Stanford bent down to pick it up. 

_ You know, you have an absolutely gorgeous smile. _

Stanford frowned down at the note. Who would’ve left that? He hoped it wasn’t the beginning of one of Spinner’s pranks. He wanted to believe it was genuine, but this was the Battle Force 5. Pranks were going on all the time. He tried - and often failed - to stay uninvolved. He was apparently a prime target. 

Stanford shrugged and tossed the note onto his desk before going to find some food. 

* * *

It was a few days later when Stanford found another note. This time, it was tucked into the box of tea bags that only he used. It was on regular lined paper this time, not the bright yellow monstrosity the last one had been written on. Stanford had tucked that note in his desk drawer despite the clinging feeling that this was the lead up to some horrific prank. 

It was nice to think that someone there might actually really like his smile. 

He brought the note back to his room before unfolding it. It was late afternoon, so the team was spread out around the garage. Most of them were in the games room, though Stanford knew that Tezz was down in the Hub doing research, and Vert and Zoom were “working on their vehicles”.

Stanford didn’t believe it for a second. 

He set his mug of tea on his desk and sat down. He hesitated for a second before unfolding the note. He already didn’t really believe that they came from a genuine source, so what was the worst he could find. 

_ It makes me a little sad when you hide your freckles, honestly. I think they’re charming. _

Stanford furrowed his brow and frowned. He hadn’t even realized that the others noticed that he wore concealer and foundation. Or at least, someone did. Still, it was sweet. He glanced into the mirror on his desk and swiped one thumb roughly across his cheekbone. It came away with some of his foundation, and he looked at the patch of freckles it had revealed. He was covered in them, pretty much from head to toe. 

He reached for the makeup wipes on his desk. Maybe tomorrow, he wouldn’t do his makeup. 

* * *

Stanford still wasn’t quite sure what to think of these notes. He’d found another one under his bedroom door when he’d woken up. This time though, it had been to a Stormshock alarm and pounding feet. He’d taken the time to pick it up and set it on his desk before sprinting out the door, but that was it. 

It was a standard desert battle zone, by all means. And better yet, they’d only had to deal with a few Sark scouts instead of a massive battle. It almost felt silly, having both teams in the zone. But then, their enemies were tricky. They couldn’t be too cautious, really. 

“Got the key!” Zoom cheered. The Chopper touched down in front of Stanford. 

“Alright team, let’s get out of here!” Vert said. The others fell into a loose lineup as they made their way back to the portal. 

The Tangler fell in alongside the Reverb. “You’ve been unusually quiet,” Agura said. The tiny beep that had preceded her words told Stanford that she’d said so over a private comms channel.

“Have I?” he replied. He hadn’t been paying attention to the conversations going on; he’d been too busy thinking about the note and focusing on orders. 

“Seems like it,” she said. 

“Huh,” was the only thing Stanford could think to say as they shot through the portal back to Earth. 

The team pulled into the garage with cheers and cries for pizza. 

“It’s too fucking early for pizza!” Viv shouted. “It’s  _ nine in the fucking morning! _ ”

Spinner cocked his head and looked at her. “So?”

Viv threw up her hands. “So you’re a  _ heathen _ !”

Spinner shrugged. “Ehh.”

Viv shook her head and swung herself off the Razor and into her wheelchair. “I’m going back to bed. You guys are fucking nuts.”

Sherman also excused himself from the outing to Zeke’s with the same excuse. 

“You coming Stan?” Vert asked. 

“Nah,” Stanford replied, trying to make it seem flippant and casual. “I’m going back to bed too. You lot have fun!”

The others waved and called out goodbyes before pulling out of the garage. He hurried up to his room once they were gone.

The note still sat on the corner of his desk, just like he’d left it. He picked it up with slightly trembling fingers - he chalked it up to the adrenaline from the zone - and unfolded it. 

_ If I wasn’t such a coward, I’d get you roses. _

* * *

Stanford was starting to think that these notes might really be from someone who cared about him. 

_ The first time I saw you with bedhead, I knew I was fucked. _

The last one, about roses, had left him thinking that maybe this wasn’t some kind of joke, while at the same time making him incredibly wary of any potential roses he might find. If this  _ was _ a prank, those roses would definitely contain something horrible. 

But he hadn’t seen any in the week or so since the last note. He’d almost started to give up hope, thinking maybe that it was a prank all along but the fact that he was being very, very secretive about the whole situation had bored the prankster and they’d given up. 

But now he was sure. This  _ had _ to be the work of someone who was interested in him, to some extent. Who else would write that?

He wondered absently if he should start wandering around with his hair down to see if he could get some kind of reaction. 

The problem was that he’d yet to get  _ any _ indication of who was writing these notes, other than that it wasn’t Spinner, because his handwriting was awful and childish, or Vert, Zoom, A.J., or Tezz, because they were in committed relationships. That only left him with a few people, and really, that should’ve made it easy. But it wasn’t.

The handwriting wasn’t even easy to identify. He’d hoped, on nights when they were playing board games that needed a scorekeeper, that he might see the writing he was hoping for. But he’d quickly remembered that they always made Viv do it because she had the best handwriting of them. And he couldn’t just  _ ask _ for other people to write the scores. He had no reason to, and it’d raise suspicion.

More than anything, he didn’t want to risk scaring this person off and ruining everything. 

* * *

The Red Sentients were fucking  _ brutal _ . 

They’d fought in yet another battle zone, and once again, vehicles had been wrecked. This time, it had been the Tangler and the Chopper. Only the original six members of the Battle Force had gone into this zone, which meant only three working vehicles to get them out. 

Zoom had been easy to sort out.. He’d just climbed, a little dazed and very cranky, into Vert’s lap in the Saber. 

Agura, however, had resisted getting into the Reverb.

“Oh come on, love!” Stanford exclaimed. He was standing in the car, elbows leaned on the roof edges. “You don’t even have to sit in my lap!”

He tried not to blush from the image brought by his own joke. 

“The Tangler is  _ fine _ ,” she insisted through gritted teeth. 

“Agura, it doesn’t have  _ brakes _ ,” Sherman said. It was the third time he’d said so, but who was counting?

Stanford certainly wasn’t.

Why was this such a big deal? She’d ridden with him once before, when the Tangler had been wrecked in that ice zone. 

Sure, Stanford had probably been acting weird around the team for a while now. He wasn’t really sure anymore if anyone was actually clueless to his weird behaviour. He was pretty sure they just pretended he was being normal because it was polite. 

Still, it was just a ride back through the portal while they towed the Tangler and the Chopper. She’d be out of the Reverb again in less than five minutes. Why did it matter?

Why did  _ he  _ care so much?

“Agura, you  _ can’t _ drive the Tangler,” Vert declared. “And I mean, like, you physically can’t. The brakes are  _ gone _ . There’s no way you can get it in the Hub safely if you drive it. Just get in with Stanford.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Zoom groaned. “I wanna go home.”

Agura grumbled but finally walked away from the Tangler and towards the Reverb. Stanford leaned out and offered her a hand up. She got in silently and settled into the passenger side with her arms crossed and one knee drawn up towards her chest. Stanford sighed softly and shifted into gear to follow Vert. 

The silence only lasted about thirty seconds before Agura was reaching out hesitantly and turning off Stanford’s mic. He blinked at her for a second before turning his head abruptly back to the road. “Why?”

“I think I’m hurt,” she whispered. 

Stanford startled and tried to keep his eyes focused on the road. “What?!”

Agura groaned. “Don’t… yell please.”

Stanford nodded, a little frantic, and let out a long, slow breath. “Okay.” Agura nodded softly. “What happened?”

“I think Kyburi cut me,” she gasped. Stanford could tell, even out of the corner of his eye, that she was getting a bit paler every minute. 

Stanford nodded and shifted into a higher gear. “Where?”

Agura winced and screwed her eyes shut. “Stomach.” She had her arms around her middle now. 

“I need to see.”

Agura let out a shuddering breath and nodded. Slowly, she moved her hands away from her midsection.

She was definitely hurt. 

“Okay,” he whispered. Agura curled back into the corner of the seat, clutching her stomach. She was breathing heavily and there was sweat clinging to her forehead. 

Stanford shifted gears, floored it, and turned on his comms.

“Lads, we need to  _ move _ ,” he declared as he shot between the Saber and the Buster. He shot out his beam and snagged the key off the Saber as he did. “Agura’s hurt.”

“What?!” Spinner shouted.

“Kyburi cut through her shocksuit and hit her stomach. I don’t know how bad it is.”

“ _ Shit _ ,” Vert hissed. Stanford could see the other two vehicles accelerating in his rearview mirror. He focused on driving as fast as he could, tuning out Vert’s voice as he started relaying information to Sage. 

The three vehicles shot through the portal and Stanford didn’t stop. One of the others could take care of they key; Agura needed to get back to Sage. 

He made it into the garage in what must have been record time. Immediately, he pulled Agura into his arms and stood up on the seat of the Reverb so that he could lean out far enough to A.J. to grab her and carry her to Sage. Stanford jumped out and followed immediately.

The next few minutes were a flurry of movement and overlapping words. Stanford hovered against the wall in the medical room, watching as Sage looked over Agura. She needed stitches, apparently. Stanford thought he’d heard at some point that no organs had been hit, but he wasn’t sure. The rest of the team appeared sporadically, but left after being speaking to Corona or Kero. 

He stayed there until things calmed down and Sage finally left Agura’s side. Corona came in to keep an eye on her, but Stanford was sure by that point that she would be okay. Sage wouldn’t have left otherwise. He followed her out of the room and into the rest of the Hub.

“She will be alright, Stanford,” Sage assured him. “Nothing vital was hit, and she will heal quickly.”

Stanford nodded numbly. 

Sage rested a hand on his shoulder. “You should get some rest.”

Stanford nodded again and shuffled off to his room. He hadn’t realized until then just how tired he was. He trudged up to his room and kicked off his muddy boots at the door. He let the rest of his shocksuit fall to the floor with them, instead of hanging it up like he usually would, and fell into bed.

 

Stanford woke up to sunlight streaming in through his window. Which was odd, considering the sun had just been setting when he’d fallen asleep. He’d slept for a long time.

He rolled out of bed and scrounged around for the pyjamas he usually wore. He was intent on visiting Agura and making sure she was okay. As he searched for clothes, he noticed a bright pink square on his floor. He cocked his head and looked at it.

It was a sticky note, with the same handwriting he practically knew by heart.  _ My hero _ was all it said, with a little cartoon heart drawn underneath.

He didn’t feel much like a hero, with Agura stuck in the med bay for however long. He felt like he could’ve done more to prevent it.

But then again, at least he’d been there at all.

* * *

It had been a rough day for Stanford, and a rough night on top of that. He’d lost Sir Fluffalot in a fight against the Reds, and he hadn’t slept well. He’d really hoped he’d never be caught so off guard by an alarm that he’d forget to leave Sir Fluffalot, after Vandal, but it had happened. Even with the whole team there - Agura was finally healed up and cleared for zones - things had been so dire that throwing his teddy bear had been the only thing Stanford had thought to do. 

He’d hoped things would be better when he went to bed, but nope.

Nightmares.  _ Fuck _ nightmares.

Especially when he didn’t have Sir Fluffalot to snuggle up to. At least he made Stanford feel a little better. 

Stanford huffed and rolled onto his other side, staring at the door. It was early; too fucking early to be awake, but he couldn’t get back to sleep. He knew from experience that he might as well get up and face the day. 

With a heavy sigh he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. The sun was barely peeking through his window. It was unlikely that any of the team was awake, which at least meant he could slink into the kitchen and make coffee without being questioned. 

It still took him a minute to get up. He was tired, and bitter, and sad. He’d done the right thing in the battle zone, sure, but he wanted Sir Fluffalot back. He’d had him since he was a baby. 

He was one of the only parts of home that he’d brought with him. 

Stanford opened his door slowly, hoping the sketchy hinge wouldn’t squeak and wake anyone. Instead of a squeak, he was met with a rustle.

Looking down in confusion, Stanford realized there was a plastic grocery bag hanging off his doorknob on the hall side.

_ This is going to suck _ , Stanford thought as he opened it. He cringed and leaned away as he reached one hand into the bag, fully expecting to be electrocuted, or sprayed, or otherwise come into contact with something unsavoury. 

Instead his fingers brushed soft fabric. 

Stanford cocked his head and dared to peek into the bag. 

He found a familiar little face looking up at him. 

“Sir Fluffalot!” He gasped. He pulled the bear out of the bag, accidentally dropping it in his haste, and clutched him to his chest. He was dry, and soft, and smelled vaguely like laundry detergent. Stanford could feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Stanford loosened his grip and looked down at him. 

One of his ears was a slightly different fur colour - and texture, he realized - and when Stanford looked closely he could see that someone had stitched his tummy closed. 

How had they even gotten him back?

Holding Sir Fluffalot close, Stanford bent to pick up the bag. A note poked out of the mouth of it, and he tucked that into the hand holding Sir Fluffalot before closing the door. 

He hung the bag on his inside doorknob and brought Sir Fluffalot back to his bed. He choked back a sob when he looked back at him again. He looked so much better than the last sight of him Stanford had gotten; waterlogged and dirty, with stuffing poking out from somewhere. He hadn’t known what part of him was torn at the time. Even now, he was reasonably sure there could be more repairs to his body that he hadn’t noticed. Whoever had done this was really good at sewing. 

Stanford unfolded the note carefully. 

_ I couldn’t just leave the little guy there. I get the feeling he’s pretty special. I’m sorry the “organ donor” wasn’t an exact match. She was the closest match we could find in such dire circumstances. Don’t worry about her, either. She’s made a full recovery.  _

Stanford smiled as he read the note, one hand over his mouth. It was the same handwriting as all the other notes. 

Whoever this was must genuinely love him, or be falling in love, or something. 

Stanford was pretty sure he was too. 

* * *

_ Meet me on the roof at midnight.  _

 

_ P.S. I’m sorry if I chicken out. _

 

The latest note had Stanford incredibly messed up. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it for since he woke up. He’d already dropped the same bottle in the shower three times, nearly broken two mugs, and had to clean up most of his tea when Jax came around the corner and asked him a question. 

He almost felt silly, but he also really,  _ really _ did not care.

He was also almost thankful for the Stormshock alarm and the confusing and tiring battle zone they’d been put through. It had meant that he’d been able to take a nap and lose a few hours on the countdown.

He totally wasn’t keeping a countdown that went right down to the second.

Nosiree. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , it was a quarter to midnight. Most of the team was in bed or hanging out in their rooms, at the least. He could hear Vert and Zoom chatting through the wall; he prayed he didn’t hear anything more than that. He’d gotten sick of that real fucking fast. 

But for now, they were behaving, leaving Stanford to lay on his bed and stare at the countdown on his screen. He wasn’t sure if he should be early, or if it was necessary for him to wait for midnight. 

Was he supposed to put on nicer clothes or something?

Finally, with five minutes left, and a headache forming from agonizing over what to do, he chucked his phone into the covers and got up. He could be a few minutes early. That was fine.

Right?

Stanford crept out of his room and down the hall into the kitchen. The door to the stairs and the roof was off the kitchen, and he could see that it was propped open slightly. 

He prayed that he wasn’t about to be met with a camera.

The stairwell was empty, and the door at the top listed on its hinges as always. Stanford started up the steps, fighting the urge to run.

He was almost to the top when the door opened more and he came face-to-face with Agura. 

She jumped when she saw him, and shuffled awkwardly back. “Hey!”

Stanford cocked his head at her. It kind of looked like she was hiding something behind her back?

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing?” Agura replied. She pressed herself to one wall of the stairwell and started to siddle down. It was a narrow space; with Stanford on the steps she either had to go back outside or squeeze by.

Stanford backed into the wall a bit to let her pass. Their chests brushed against each other, but he ignored it. He had to get up to the roof and find out who was up there.

Agura’s shoe slipped on the metal edge of one of the steps and her hands shot out to grab the railing. Stanford reached out instinctively and grabbed her waist. Thankfully, she didn’t fall, but whatever she’d been holding fell onto a step a few below them. 

They stood like that for a few seconds, Stanford’s face growing increasingly warmer as he realized he was more or less holding her against him in a narrow space. He tried to stutter out some excuse, to no avail, and ended up looking away.

Which was when he spied the bouquet of roses. 

“Is mine not the only romantic rendezvous on the roof tonight?” he mumbled.

Agura sighed and thumped her head against Stanford’s collarbone, making him jump. “You’re kinda dumb,” she sighed.

“Oi!” He exclaimed. “What did I do?”

Agura lifted her head and rolled her eyes at him. “Really? Roses? Me, being here at the exact time specified in the note? And you don’t get it?” She dropped her head to his chest again, laughing, though it didn’t sound happy.

“Wait,” he gasped. “It was  _ you _ ?”

“Oh my  _ god _ , Stanford,” she groaned. She didn’t lift her head.

So instead, Stanford gently took hold of her chin and lifted her head so he could see her face. 

Which overwhelmed him and left him stunned, stuttering, and blinking. 

Agura just rolled her eyes affectionately and rested a hand on his cheek. “Please God tell me I can kiss you.” 

Stanford nodded, a little too quick and eager. Agura chuckled softly and pulled him in.

Stanford was realizing, very quickly, that he’d been hoping all along that Agura was the one writing the notes. 

And now she was kissing him with a hand in his hair and another at his hip. Stanford felt light. Agura’s lips were soft, and her hand in his hair kept combing through it, sending tiny chills down Stanford’s spine. 

They finally pulled apart and rested their foreheads together. “Should’ve done that months ago,” Agura sighed.

“You still have time,” Stanford replied.

Agura grinned and leaned in again.

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read chapter 2 if you don't want to. It's just the smut.


End file.
